


Who Is The Real Devil?

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, M/M, halloween fic, spies being spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: Illya hates that they are stuck in a safehouse and Napoleon has to try enlighten the Russian’s foul mood.





	Who Is The Real Devil?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaijusizefeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijusizefeels/gifts).



“What are you complaining about, Peril? You love the cold so this weather suits you just right.”

Illya isn’t complaining about the weather but he is miserable because they are holed up in that safehouse until Waverly deems it is safe. Their mission has ended but with some loose ends the boss needs to take care off, the two spies are ordered to stay put. It’s autumn, and the colours of the season are eye-catching and vibrant. Trees change from green to fiery reds, oranges and yellows; a perfect time of the year to snap photographs. Behind the safehouse, there is a small forest, and even it is already late afternoon, Illya sees it through the window the evidence of invigorating autumn. He wants to amble around the area and not stay there cooped up with Napoleon who looks contented by just lazing on the couch reading his books.

“You know there is an old Scottish saying, ‘there is no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes.’ And we didn’t expect it to be this cold, did we? It’s only late October and the temperature is what, 3 degrees? It’s crazy!”

Illya rolls his eyes. He strides towards Napoleon who has looked up from his book, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

“Tomorrow morning I am going out. Not staying inside anymore. Talking to you is driving me crazy.”

He takes a seat opposite of Napoleon whose smile has not waned. 

“It’s Halloween.”

Illya gives Napoleon a funny look. “So?”

Despite grumpy, Illya still looks adorable. Napoleon wishes he could kiss the man silly just to shut him from his whinging but perhaps that isn’t such a good idea. Illya will probably strangle him. Still, he needs to get the Russian out of his foul mood. 

Napoleon tries again.

“You like ghost stories, Peril?”

Illya’s lips twitch like he wants to smile. But then he shakes his head.

“Are we going to share ghost stories now? Is that your idea of killing time?”

Napoleon tosses his book aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You are not scared of ghosts, are you?”

The idea of the dead or disembodied spirits who had died throughout the preceding year coming back in search of living bodies to possess for the next year is preposterous enough to Illya. Funny even. And when Napoleon suggests he is scared makes it even more hilarious. Illya laughs.

“Maybe it is you who is scared of ghosts. Is that why you want to stay inside and not go out?”

Napoleon shoots him an incredulous look. “I am staying in because Waverly ordered us to! It has nothing to do with me being scared, Peril.”

“Shields Road,” Illya cuts Napoleon off suddenly before he could say more. “We were there three nights ago tracking down our mark.”

“And your point is?” Napoleon asks, curious now as to where the conversation is heading. 

“I read about it. There are many ghosts there but the most famous is some demon child that haunts the underground area. Do you know? People have spotted it many times. And those who have actually seen it say the demon is half boy, half animal. Always chewing on something when sighted. Too bad reports on it have stopped since a decade back or else we could be the few lucky ones to see it. A treat for you, Cowboy.”

Napoleon just stares at Illya with his mouth half opened. _Peril reads this kind of stuff? Interesting._

“Let’s hope it stays that way, I do not want it roaming outside while we sleep. Especially when my partner is scared of ghosts and demons.”

Hearing that, Napoleon turns his head to take a sneak peek out the window. A chill runs down his spine. Illya is doing a good job of spooking him out. 

“No, we don’t want that,” he mutters quietly before turning his attention back to Illya. “So, any other interesting stories you know?”

“The Necropolis vampire.”

Napoleon raises an eyebrow. He smiles then, all teeth. “Vampire you say.”

Illya nods. “This vampire is tall. Seven feet. Teeth is metal and blamed for disappearance of children. It haunts a local cemetery, a resting ground opened in the 1800s. Several nights in a row children from the nearby areas roamed it, bearing sharpened sticks and even knives searching for the tall vampire. They want to kill it. But they never found it.”

“ _You_ are seven feet tall,” Napoleon points at Illya. “You could take him.”

Illya scoffs, correcting his partner, “Six foot five is close enough,” pauses, and then smirks. “But yes, I can take the vampire. Maybe, I save you from it.”

He has leaned forward too, knees resting against the small table in between them but Napoleon isn’t aware of Illya’s movement. His head is full of vampires’ teeth sinking into his neck and Illya yanking it away at the last minute, scooping him in his arms and whisking him away from danger. Later, Illya would take him back to his castle like Count Dracula and make Napoleon his for all eternity. How ironic.

“Cowboy!”

Illya’s voice pulls Napoleon out of his reverie. He is waving his hands in front of Napoleon’s face.

“You did not hear me call you.”

“I was just imagining how it’d be like if you were to save me just as the vampire’s teeth were about to sink in my skin right here,” Napoleon remarks while tilting his head, baring his neck for Illya to see. Then a slight blush paints his cheeks. “You would be my hero.”

His words made Illya’s face flush as well. The Russian quickly notes that it’s already dark outside, changing the topic, tearing his eyes away from Napoleon but Napoleon is still harbouring on the idea of vampires coming for him during the night. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. They are just stories. Is not real.”

Napoleon laughs. 

“It’s funny that you actually know all these stories. Or you just made them up so you know, we could cuddle in bed? Or maybe, by the fireplace?”

Napoleon winks. And this ticks Illya off.

“You think I do not read? You think I am doing this just to…”

“Peril, calm down, that’s not what I’m saying!”

They are both standing now. The ambiance of the room has changed, from calm to taut tension and Illya is glaring down at Napoleon. Again, Napoleon would very much like to kiss him because Illya is being Illya; cute when angry, and he is so tall and strong and damn, Illya could destroy him with those hands of his. Napoleon has noticed this for a long time coming. He smiles.

Illya, however, notices it and takes it the wrong way. “Do not insult me, Solo.”

Napoleon holds his hands up as a sign of truce. “Trust me, I’m not.”

Minutes later they are still there eyeing each other and no matter how he tries, the idea of kissing Illya has not gone away from Napoleon’s head. In fact, the urge goes stronger as the seconds tick by. Maybe, just maybe, he can use it as a solution to calm the still disgruntled man? Fuck, it’s a terrible idea.

“Can I try something?” Napoleon says suddenly and inches nearer to Illya, letting him know his intention. Illya does not back away. 

“What are you doing?”

_This is a terrible idea, Solo, but best to just get on with it.._

Ignoring Illya’s question, Napoleon reaches out and cups Illya’s face. There is a low sound of protest but then he kisses Illya hard on his lips. For a second he thinks Illya is going to push him away from the way how tensed his body is, but the Russian just stands there, shocked.

Taking it as a good sign since he hasn’t been punched yet, Napoleon softens the kiss, running his tongue slowly on Illya’s lips. One hand finds its way on his hip while another comes up to the nape of Illya’s hair. When Illya parts his lips and moans, Napoleon pulls their bodies closer. And when the kiss ends, he doesn’t take his lips away from where he’s parked it; hovering inches from Illya’s own. 

“What—why did you kiss me?” Illya blurts, asks him out loud. Finally, his brain and his mouth have decided to cooperate.

“Just trying to calm you down this Halloween night,” Napoleon murmurs. “And also because it’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.”

The way his heart rate has spiked up, Illya thinks Napoleon has failed to calm him. But before he could move, Napoleon’s grip on him tightens. 

“Won’t do it again if you don’t want me to?”

Illya cannot move anywhere without shoving Napoleon away. But he does not want to do that, not really. Not when Napoleon’s lips are warm and his hands, now on Illya’s back, are settling. Napoleon tries to kiss Illya again but this time, Illya pulls away, Napoleon missing his mouth by mere inches.

“Who is the devil this time?” Illya says, looks at him underneath his long lashes and it surprises Napoleon he could be such a tease.

“Let me try again then, so I can prove to you who is the real devil,” Napoleon challenges with that infuriating grin.

A heartbeat or two after that and it is Illya that is leaning in, pulls Napoleon closer against his body.

“You should really learn to know when to stop talking,” is what he says when Napoleon tries to say something clever and luckily, Illya discovers, kissing Napoleon without him talking does calm him, thinks he could get used to it, which is odd that it has come tonight of all the nights.


End file.
